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her chest as she breathed. Watching the
muscles around her eyes tighten as he traced his way up to her
throat, then back down, moving over her dress to her legs, then all
the way to her feet and back. As his hands stroked her body, she
relaxed inch by inch once more, easing deeper into the cushion,
turning herself over to him one wicked touch at a time.
    His gaze slid to her lips as he stroked
her—plump, pink, so perfectly made for kissing—then to her
collarbone, over the Firebrand opal at her chest, just like the one
he wore but which she couldn’t see in this realm, then finally down
to the front ties of her dress, hanging against her creamy
cleavage.
    He wanted to know what she looked like
beneath that dress he’d conjured. What she felt like, her skin
against his. When he brushed his fingers against the base of her
neck then lower, stopping on the ties and pulling until her bodice
loosened, she sucked in a breath and held it but didn’t push him
away.
    Her breaths quickened. She wasn’t wearing a
bra, and he watched in rapt attention as her lush, firm breasts
were slowly revealed to him, one agonizing inch at a time.
    He went slow. Gave her every opportunity to
stop him. But she didn’t. And by Allah, she was beautiful. Dusky
pink areolas, so tantalizing he wanted to lower his head and draw
each one into his mouth. Firm, high breasts he knew would fit
perfectly in his hands. He had an overwhelming urge to rip the
dress from her skin, to part her thighs and press inside her until
they both cried out in ecstasy. But more than that, he wanted her
to want him. As much as he suddenly wanted her.
    He leaned forward, marveled at the way her
body trembled when he pressed his lips against her collarbone. When
he kissed the soft skin of her throat and trailed his mouth up to
breathe hot against her earlobe.
    “Tell me what you want, Mira. I’m yours to
command.” Her skin was silky soft, so damn sweet against his
tongue. “Yours to use in any way you want. This is all about
you.”
    Slowly, hesitantly, Mira’s fingers slid into
his hair, and she moaned as she tipped her head to the side,
granting him access, showing him the first sign that yes, she
wanted this too.
    Desire bunched in his stomach, shot straight
into his groin. He licked the tender column of her neck, latched
on, and suckled.
    She moaned when he found an extra sensitive
spot. And, drawing one leg up, she pressed her naked breasts
against his bare chest, rubbing herself against him in a way that
was so sinfully erotic, he didn’t know how much longer he could
last.
    “Tell me, Mira,” he whispered.
    “I—I want you to kiss me,” she
whispered.
    Yes. Finally. “Where?”
    “My—my throat.”
    Disappointment flowed that it wasn’t her
mouth, but he moved to the other side, breathed hot against her
skin until she shuddered, then closed his lips around the column of
her throat once more. She’d beg for his mouth on hers later. He’d
make sure of it.
    “Where else?” he asked against her skin.
    “My ear.” He trailed his lips up to her
lobe, felt her shudder beneath him, loved the way her naked breasts
pressed into his chest.
    “My collarbone,” she added before he was
done. One corner of his lips curled at her enthusiasm, and he
answered by licking the spot, swirling his tongue around a mole,
then sliding lower to trace his tongue along the very top of her
cleavage.
    Heat gathered all along her skin, penetrated
his and amped his desire to a full-blown inferno. “Where else?”
    “My…my breasts.”
    He breathed hot against her right nipple.
She trembled, moaned, arched her back, and closed her eyes, and as
her breast came closer to his mouth, he groaned himself, then
licked at the tip and finally drew her into his mouth.
    “Oh God,” she muttered. Her updrawn knee
pressed against his side. The hem of her dress fell to her hip,
exposing her long, toned thigh, dragging his attention from what he
was doing.
    He wanted his mouth there.